“Mine For A Moment”

In the fall of 2008, while I was planning my wedding, a strong, courageous friend of mine was fighting for his life.

At age 34, Daniel Smith was vibrant, healthy, and full of promise. He was finishing medical school and running more marathons than I could count. He seemed to have his whole life ahead of him. On October 22, Daniel lost his 6-month long battle against squamous cell oral cancer.

I heard the news after coming back from my honeymoon. I know I cannot adequately describe how this news affected me, but I will try:

I experienced deep sadness, sympathy for his family and the painful sting of loss, all of which is to be expected. What I did not expect was to be confronted with the fear that Nate could be taken from me in a similar way.

Life was now fragile and unpredictable….fleeting. Of course, it always has been, but now I had this new person in my life that I wanted to hold on to so tightly.

For days, I considered the possibility of losing Nate. How would I be able to go on without this amazing man in my life? But this couldn’t really happen, could it? After all, God had given him to me; wasn’t that a guarantee that my next 50 years would be wonderful?

As naïve as that sounds, it really is how I felt. The evening I heard about Daniel’s passing, I was struggling to balance loving fiercely with a willingness to let go. Then something happened that I can only attribute to God’s leading.

I saw my next painting in my mind, as clearly as you are seeing it now on your screen. It was an image of a girl playing in the field with her father. He had just let go of her hand, and she was running away, but smiling back at him. I knew I was supposed to get it on canvas.

“Mine For a Moment” is my answer to the struggle. It’s my reminder that we must not love less in order to avoid the pain of potential loss. The people in our lives, our children, spouses, friends and family members, are here with us now, and “now” is really all we can hold on to.

Nate is “mine for a moment,” and in this moment I will love him completely, knowing that his life is not in my hands, but in the hands of his Creator, who has seen each of his days before even one of them began.

I hope you will share this painting with someone who may need to see it. It is dedicated to Daniel Smith and to little Sadie Isabella Stout, whose life ended just 9 days after it began. My heart goes out to the families and friends of those whose moments here on earth seemed too few.

Let me know if you’d like to be contacted when prints are available of this painting. (Update as of February 2010, they are now available!  You may visit the painting’s website to order or to donate: MineForAMoment.com.

See the painting on my website.

Below is an excerpt from Daniel’s blog. He wrote this less than a month after his diagnosis:

Sunday, May 11, 2008
Moments

Time isn’t grouped in days anymore. I am much more aware of moments. Some of those moments find me in high places warmly blanketed by the prayers of faithful family and friends. Other moments find me in sad disbelief as the majority of my body disagrees with the test results. Some moments find me thankful for evidence of God’s movement before the most dramatic challenges have even begun. Other moments find me terrified of the unknown.

But, if I truly believe Him, I can’t wallow in fear of the unknown. All of my unknowns have been known by Him since long before I was even born. He has not been caught off guard. He is ready, and He is more than able. A friend shared this verse earlier today: “Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” -Joshua 1:9

Indeed, He is … and forevermore will be.